


popcorn & strings

by hawksonfire



Series: oh, the good ol' days [20]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Clint Barton's Backstory, Deaf Clint Barton, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, First Christmas Together, Fluff, M/M, Marvel Bingo 2019, Multi, POV Clint Barton, Sleepy Steve Rogers, mention of clint's shitty childhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:20:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21990985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawksonfire/pseuds/hawksonfire
Summary: In which Steve, Bucky, and Clint all wish they did Christmas differently.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: oh, the good ol' days [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533320
Comments: 36
Kudos: 176
Collections: Marvel Bingo 2019





	popcorn & strings

**Author's Note:**

> Marvel Bingo 2019 Square G5: Toys.
> 
> Happy Holidays to all! Enjoy our boys and some holiday fluff.

**Clint**

Clint’s feelings about Christmas are... complicated. It didn’t get celebrated when he was a kid, and the circus was usually too busy preparing for a show to give a damn about two kids who’d never had a decent Christmas. And Clint usually requested to be sent on a mission over Christmas - partially because they were usually easy, what with his targets being too busy with the holiday to pay attention to their surroundings, but mostly because he’d rather spend Christmas huddled on some roof somewhere feeling useful than he would huddled on his couch, feeling useless and alone. 

He always gets whatever mission he asks for because all the other qualified agents have holiday plans. It’s not a bad set-up really, and Clint was probably going to end up doing it again this year. And then December rolled around and Bucky and Steve started talking about how this was the first Christmas since Bucky had been back, and they wanted to do it _ right_, and Clint realized that he was monumentally screwed. 

Just his luck that he’d be dating two of the most into Christmas people he knows. So he does his best to keep a smile on his face when they’re dancing along to the obnoxiously loud Christmas music, and he does his best not to puke when everything starts tasting like peppermint, and he does his best to pretend like he’s happy, because he knows how much it means to them and he doesn’t want to fuck it up.

“So, how come you hate Christmas?” Bucky asks, leaning on the kitchen counter and staring at Clint. 

Shit. “I don’t hate Christmas,” Clint protests weakly.

“Uh huh,” Bucky says flatly. “Then mind telling me what other reason there is for you spending the least amount of time in our apartment you can get away with?” He doesn’t sound upset, more just... curious.

Clint sighs. Pulling his blanket tighter over his hunched shoulders, he tells Bucky all about the Christmases he never got as a kid, from when he was still being thrown around by his dad to when he was with the circus, all the way up to he became an Avenger. “Everyone else likes Christmas, and I didn’t want to ruin their holiday,” Clint says, staring into the distance blankly, “So I’d just take a mission and come back when it was done and the holiday was over. Rinse and repeat the next year. And then you and Steve were so excited about it, and even though I don’t much care for it, it’s still our first holiday together.”

Bucky listens quietly, and when Clint’s done explaining, he says, “I’m not all that into Christmas either.”

Clint blinks. “But... What?” He gestures vaguely at the apartment, fully decked out in garlands and lights and the massive fucking tree in the corner that’s nearly overloaded with ornaments and crooked because the top of it is bent in half by the ceiling.

Bucky shrugs. “It makes Stevie happy.” He takes a seat next to Clint, nudging at him until Clint opens the blanket and wraps it around Bucky’s shoulders too. “Before, Steve and his ma used to come over to our house for Christmas. We’d eat and we’d laugh and it was usually good. And then everything happened, and when I was myself again, I realized that what made it so much fun was the people. And my family are all dead, so’s Steve’s, and as far as I knew, Steve hated me for what I did. Christmas lost its appeal after that.”

“Steve doesn’t hate you though,” Clint points out. 

Bucky hums in response. “Yeah. But Christmas is still very different from what it used to be. It’s not the same.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Both of them jump and try to turn around, but the blanket wrapped around them restricts their movements until they finally go tumbling off the stools and onto the ground, landing in a heap at Steve’s feet. He looks down at them, cheeks flushed from the cold and a light dusting of snow on his hat. “Why didn’t you tell me you two didn’t like Christmas?”

“It’s not that we don’t like Christmas,” Clint tries to explain as they scramble upright.

“It’s that Clint’s never had a good one and it’s really different than when we were kids, Stevie,” Bucky finishes. 

Steve says nothing, just carefully takes off his hat and coat, puts his gloves into a pocket, and then turns to face them. “It is different,” Steve agrees. “I do all this,” he says, gesturing at their apartment, “because I thought _ you _ liked it. Frankly, it’s all a bit much for me.”

Clint blinks. 

Bucky blinks. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he groans. “Are you telling me we could have been having Christmas the way _ we _ like it and not the way everyone else tells us we should have it this _ whole time _?” Steve breaks first, a snicker escaping him. Then it’s Bucky, whose snort is what does it for Clint, and before long the three of them are slumped against the wall, howling with laughter.

“I thought we talked about this,” Clint manages to get out between gales of laughter.

“Clearly, we didn’t!” Bucky cries, setting them all off again. 

“I meant we talked about talking,” Clint explains, wiping tears from his eyes. “We _ said _ we had to be more communicative - why am I not surprised none of us listened?”

“Because it’s us?” Steve says, cheeks still flushed but this time from laughter. “Just to be clear, I don’t like the way Christmas is done nowadays, but I don’t mind the way we used to do it, Buck. Wouldn’t mind doing it that way again.”

“I’d be okay with that,” Bucky agrees, then they both turn to Clint. Steve’s got this pleading sort of look on his face, and so does Bucky, but Bucky’s is a bit more understanding. 

Clint was already willing to put up with the Christmas music and the decorations for them, so maybe he can give their sort of Christmas a try. Who knows, he might even like it. “That doesn’t sound too bad,” he admits. “Does this mean we can get rid of the peppermint flavoured everything?”

“Yes,” says Steve.

“No,” says Bucky. They glare at each other. Eventually, Bucky relents, grumbling, “I’ll stop putting it on your stuff, but I’m keeping it.”

“That’s fine, baby,” Clint says, smacking a kiss onto Bucky’s cheek. “So, what do we do first?”

Bucky and Steve exchange a look, then in unison, they say, “Get rid of that tree!”

~~

Four hours later, after much huffing and puffing on the parts of Steve and Bucky as they struggled to shove the nearly ten-foot-tall tree out the door while Clint put all the ornaments away and cheered them on, the three of them are sitting in their much less decked out living room, surrounded by half-empty mugs of hot chocolate, bowls of popcorn and various lengths of string.

“Stop eating all the popcorn!” Steve says after he catches Clint sneaking some popcorn into his mouth for the fourth time.

“But it’s so good!” Clint whines, stuffing some more into his mouth. 

“Sweetheart, we won’t have any left for the decorations at this rate,” Bucky says gently. Clint pouts. “Aw, don’t pout darlin’, we’ll make some more once we’re done.” 

“Promise?” Clint asks, pulling out his seldom-used puppy eyes. 

Bucky visibly melts and says, “Promise.”

Clint grins, all traces of sadness vanishing as he pumps a fist in the air and yells, “Success!”

Bucky blinks at him while Steve laughs in the background. “Why you little -!” He lunges at Clint, overturning the bowl of popcorn on his lap. Kernels go flying as Clint yelps, scrambling to get away from Bucky’s merciless hands. 

Steve’s cry of “It’s going everywhere!” is lost beneath the sounds of Bucky tickling Clint viciously, promising retribution for playing him like that. 

“Alright, alright, I yield!” Clint cries breathlessly a few minutes later. Bucky stops tickling him, leaving his hands on Clint’s stomach. “You win, I’m sorry,” Clint gasps.

“Damn skippy,” Bucky says smugly. 

“You still promised me popcorn though,” Clint snickers.

Right as Bucky’s going for Clint’s stomach again, Steve interrupts. “If you two are done, can we focus on decorating now?” He’s trying to sound unimpressed, but one look at his face and Bucky and Clint can see him struggling not to laugh. They exchange a look and nod at each other, then launch themselves in Steve’s direction. 

“Go for his armpits!” Bucky shouts. Clint does as he’s told and Steve’s laughter rings throughout their apartment.

~~

Much, _ much _ later, the three of them sit on the couch, tangled in each other’s limbs, holding a massive bowl of popcorn in the middle. Clint looks around, seeing the strings of popcorn strung up on the walls and the new, smaller tree tucked into a corner, and he snuggles back into his two guys, smiling faintly. “This isn’t so bad,” he admits.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, eyes wide and the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips. 

“I wouldn’t mind doing it like this every year,” Clint says quietly. “It’s... nice. Cozy.”

“It’s settled, then,” Bucky declares. “This is how we do Christmas from now on.” He and Steve lean in and press a kiss to Clint’s cheeks, the three of them snuggling in closer on the couch. 

Yeah, Clint thinks. He likes this.

~~

It’s Christmas morning and Clint is freaking the fuck out. They agreed no presents, but he went ahead and bought them something anyway - he wasn’t going to, but then Tony made a comment about how he and Pepper do the same thing and always end up buying each other something anyway, and Clint started getting anxious because what if Steve and Bucky bought him something and he didn’t buy them anything and they’re disappointed and he ruins Christmas - So, yeah. He got them each something. 

He wakes up early and somehow manages to climb out of bed without waking them, takes a second - or a minute or five - to watch them sleep, feeling himself fall in love with them even more. And then Steve farts and Bucky mumbles something about Skittles, and Clint has to leave before he wakes them up with his laughter.

He makes them pancakes and waffles and bacon, and then has to ask JARVIS to have some sent up from the Tower’s kitchen because he burns it all mercilessly, and he’s just finished making coffee and setting all the food out on the table when Bucky and Steve stumble into the kitchen, rubbing their eyes and yawning.

“Happy Christmas,” Clint says quietly, handing them coffee after they kiss him good morning and sit down at the table.

“Happy Christmas,” Bucky says, eyes wide at the spread of food on the table. “Did you make all this?”

“Happy Christmas,” Steve mumbles, still half-asleep and leaning on his hand, elbow on the table. Steve, when he’s able to, takes a while to wake up. He can snap to alertness in a split second if he needs to, but when he’s safe and there’s no danger, he’s basically a giant teddy bear until some switch in his brain flips and he wakes up.

Clint snorts and ruffles Steve’s hair as he passes by, sitting down next to Bucky. “I tried to make all this,” he says sheepishly, “And then I burnt it all and asked JARVIS to send some food up from the kitchen.”

“Happy Christmas, J,” Bucky says, smirking, “Thank you for saving breakfast.”

“It was my pleasure, gentlemen,” JARVIS says, “Happy Christmas.” They dig in, groaning at how good it all is, and by the end of the meal, Steve’s perked up enough for them to move to the couch and cuddle in front of the fire. 

“Uh,” Clint starts, and then he can’t figure out what to say, so he just holds their gifts out to them silently. 

Bucky sighs, then gets up and disappears into the bedroom. Before Clint can panic, he’s back with small gifts that he tosses at the two of them. “I got Steve’s gifts for us too,” he says, grinning, “Because I don’t think he’s awake enough yet.” 

Steve grunts, blinking slowly and staring at the gifts that just landed in his lap. “‘M awake,” he mumbles. “Tired. Warm.”

“Aw, sunshine,” Clint croons, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Steve’s forehead. “D’you want us to wait?”

“‘S fine,” Steve says, voice thick with sleep. “Wanna.”

“Alright then,” Bucky says, “Clint, you go first.” Clint grins at him and carefully unpeels the wrapping paper from the gift. It’s not too big, roughly the size of a Rubik’s cube, and when Clint finishes unwrapping it, he finds a cube covered in various buttons and switches and other things of the kind over all six surfaces. “It’s a fidget cube,” Bucky explains, “I know you fidget when you’re bored, and I figured this way you can have something cool to do it with.”

“It’s perfect,” Clint beams, already playing with it. “Thank you. Now you go.”

Bucky, unlike Clint, shreds the wrapping paper on his gift from Clint in half a second, exposing the handmade hat that says ‘Fuck the Cold’. “Are those...” Bucky squints at the hat, then lets out a snort. “Are those reindeers fucking?”

Clint grins. “Yeah. Took me a while to make, but it was worth it.”

“You _ made _ this?” Bucky says incredulously. He jams it on his head and declares, “I’m never taking it off.”

“Shower,” Steve mutters, slightly more awake. Clint nudges him and gestures at his lap, and Steve grabs the gift from Bucky and opens it in a manner much like Bucky did. That is, ripping at it until the paper is completely shredded. Inside, there’s a pair of thick woollen socks, little images of toast stitched into them. 

“So your toes will always be toasty,” Clint says solemnly. Bucky snorts and Steve whacks Clint with a pillow. 

“I love them,” Steve declares, sliding his feet into the socks and wiggling his toes. They go around in the same order, opening the other gift they all have. Clint gets a new grip for his bow, a half-blue, half-red star etched into the bottom - “So we can always watch over you,” Steve says, prompting Clint to throw himself at them for a hug.

Bucky gets this Captain America action figure that’s got a string you can pull on to make it speak. Bucky promptly spends ten minutes pulling the string to hear all the things the doll has to say. “Captain America says eat your vegetables! Captain America says listen to your parents!” Then, in an eerily good impression of Steve’s voice, Bucky pretends to pull the string and says, “Captain America says don’t jump out of a plane without a parachute!”

“One time!” Steve protests. 

Bucky whacks him with a pillow. “One time too many, punk,” he growls.

Steve gets a Bucky Bear that he refuses to let go, squeezing it to his chest so tightly Clint’s afraid it might burst - but the sight of his baby blue eyes peering over the top of the bear’s head will be kept close to Clint’s heart forever.

Overall, it’s a pretty good Christmas - Clint’s first good Christmas, actually, and when he tells them that, they immediately swamp him in hugs and kisses and promises that all his Christmases in the future with them will be good. “I hope I spend all of them with the two of you,” Clint says quietly, and when they don’t respond immediately he freaks out a little bit. It’s the closest any of them have gotten to talking about the future, and as much as Clint loves them he’s still sorta thinking that he doesn’t deserve them.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Steve says firmly, squeezing Clint’s hand. 

“You’re stuck with us, sweetheart,” Bucky says just as firmly, and Clint just pulls them both into a hug, tight as he can, and thanks _ fuck _ that these two men are in his life. 

“To many more Christmases!” Clint says when he’s pulled himself together, lifting his nearly empty mug of cocoa into the air. 

“Many more Christmases!” Steve and Bucky echo, the clink of their mugs sealing the deal.


End file.
